


if monday’s blue

by Pidonyx



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, The Fabulous Killjoys (Danger Days) Are Not MCR, its not exactly angst, more like angsting, this is self indulgent surprise surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24586960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pidonyx/pseuds/Pidonyx
Summary: “But what’s making him more stir-crazy than usual is that Ghoul hasn’t left Poison behind on a run since they started dating...and now he’s realizing how much he took that luxury for granted.”
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	if monday’s blue

**Author's Note:**

> hello guess what i spent time writing last night instead of working on my multichap
> 
> if you guessed this, ding ding ding, you win
> 
> still working on drafting the next chapter of my longer fic but rn here is this humble offering that i stayed up all night writing and barely beta’d
> 
> hee hee hee *writes pretty much a carbon copy of things i’ve already written*
> 
> anyways title is from friday i’m in love by the cure

Poison sighs roughly and rolls onto his back on the Diner’s table. Tilting his head backwards, he can just see the jerryrigged clock that Jet and Ghoul cobbled together from where it’s hanging over the old kitchen counter, and he swears that in the past hour the minute hand has only moved a single tick. He scowls at it, sure that it’s broken, resolving to nag Jet and Ghoul about it when they get back from their run in a few days. Said run is the reason why he’s so out of sorts in the first place — which it would be anyways, given all of the factors: Poison’s never exactly happy when a run requires the discretion that means only two of them can go, even less so when he’s one of the people who has to stay behind. But what’s making him more stir-crazy than usual is that Ghoul hasn’t left Poison behind on a runsince they started dating, and Poison’s gotten used to being able to hang all over him, and — as loathe as he would be to admit it to, say, Kobra — to being able to have physical affection, including kisses, whenever he wanted. And now he’s realizing how much he took that luxury for granted, with Ghoul on a three-day run that he’s only just barely left for, and only a totally unsympathetic brother and a three-year-old for company.

They can’t use the radio too often due to the delicate nature of the errand Jet and Ghoul are running, and Poison has a solid four hours before he can call Ghoul and talk to him again. He’d voiced that complaint to Ghoul before he’d left, and Ghoul had just laughed. “You’ve gotten along just fine without me before,” he’d said. And then he’d kissed him goodbye (and Poison had clung to his hand and pouted until he’d gotten at least three kisses and one playful nip to his ear that hadn’t helped  _at all_ with making him want to let Ghoul leave) and that had been that. (“You’ll be careful, right?” Poison had said, crossing his arms across his chest so he wouldn’t try to reach for Ghoul again. “Of course,” Ghoul had replied, finishing wiping down his ray gun and sliding it into his shoulder holster. “Okay,” Poison had said, and apparently there had been something weak in his tone because Ghoul had turned to him, eyes going soft in the way that Poison never wanted anyone else to get to see, and put his hand on his cheek. “I’ll be careful,” he had said, and kissed Poison’s jaw gently. “I promise. Love you.” And Poison had leaned into the touch, and bitten back a sigh, lifting his own hand to cover Ghoul’s. “I love you, too.”)

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Ghoul, or Jet, as trust is (and has to be) a given in this crew — it’s more that when Poison’s stuck in the Diner with two of his crewmates and the ‘Am on a risky run, there’s way too much time on his hands to think about what could go wrong. And, if he’s being honest with himself, he’s a little scared. Scared that this will be the moment his notoriously shitty luck kicks in and it’ll end up that the universe was just toying with him and he’s going to lose Ghoul just now that he’s finally gotten to have him. Or that this mission will be the one where his best friend doesn’t come back. So instead, Poison’s been focusing on how  _bored_ and touch starved he is so he has something to whine about rather than freak out. 

He glares at the clock again. It moves a single tick forwards, and Poison wants to bang his head into the table. He can’t even pester Kobra because after about an hour of listening to Poison talk incessantly about basically nothing, even though he’d been  _trying_ not to complain, Kobra had grabbed his helmet and his keys and left to go see Cherri on his bike. The Girl is taking her afternoon nap in her room, and Poison knows better than to wake her up to draw with him, even as bored as he is. He’s experienced the aftermath of almost that exact situation and has no desire for a repeat performance, regardless of his current predicament.

He ends up getting out his paints and trying to settle into working on a project, but he’s full of restless energy and keeps standing up to walk out the jitters, circling aimless laps around the room before sitting back down and trying to focus. As a result, by the time the Girl makes a noise from her room, Poison’s gotten almost nothing done, and the frustration clings to his shoulders like fog when he gets up to go get her.

She’s standing up in her makeshift playpen, and reaches her arms up when Poison enters the room. Despite his sour mood, Poison can feel a smile creeping over his face, and he scoops her up, settling her on his hip. “Hey, babygirl.”

“Party,” she says happily, slapping her small hands against his chest. He bounces her, smile growing when she giggles and kicks her feet. 

“Jus’ you an’ me right now, Girly,” Poison says. “Whatcha wanna do?”

“Wanna. Um.” The Girl pauses, holding her hand up to her face as she thinks. It’s a behavior she learned from Jet, and it’s super fucking cute, but Poison remembers he’s trying  _not_ to think about Jet and Ghoul right now, and pushes that thought away. “Color? With crayons?” She looks up at Poison, tilting her head to the side, as if he would ever say no to her. 

“You got it,” he says, and sets her down on the ground so they can get the crayons and scrap paper together. She slips her hand into his and pulls him along to the pantry, where they’ve got a small stack of mostly blank clippings of paper and a cluster of mismatched crayons held together with a rubber band. They sit together in the Diner booth, the Girl propped up on a crate from the back room so she can reach the table, and color until the putter of Kobra’s bike returns and Poison looks up to see that the sun is sinking into the horizon. 

It was a good distraction, but Poison’s jittery until the three of them have had dinner (cans of Power Pup, Poison splitting his with the Girl and ignoring the fact that it makes Kobra give him a look) and put the Girl to sleep, and he can pull out the transmitter and tune it to Ghoul and Jet’s frequency. Jet picks up, and internally, Poison sighs in relief.

“Hey, Star.”

“Hey,” Jet says, as cool as ever. “How’s home base lookin’?”

Poison huffs. “Fine. A little boring. I tried painting, that went shitty, colored with th’ Girl this afternoon. Y’know. We miss you guys.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Jet’s tone is way too amused for Poison’s taste, and he rolls his eyes even though Jet can’t see it.

“Shut the fuck up, you know I miss  _you_.”

“I know, Party.” He still sounds amused, and Poison opens his mouth to retort, but Jet talks over him. “Got someone here who wants t’ talk t’ you. Destroya help us ‘f we have t’ separate you two again, it’s been a hell ‘f a day.”

“Thanks, Jet,” Poison says, softly, and a warm, short laugh comes through the line.

“‘F course. Tell Kobra and the Girl I said hi, ‘n that I’m sending my love.”

“Yeah,” Poison says, and he suddenly feels like there’s a lump in his throat. “Lots of love, Star. Come home safe.”

“Will do. ‘M gonna give the radio t’ Ghoul now.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then a crackle of static, and then Ghoul’s voice is coming through the transmitter. “Hey, sunshine.”

A smile breaks over Poison’s face immediately, and he pulls his knees up, leaning back up against the wall and holding the transmitter with both hands. “Hi, Ghoulie. How was your day?” He sounds so bubbly to his own ears he would be embarrassed if it was anyone else on the line, but it’s Ghoul, so it’s okay. Hopefully Kobra’s already gone to bed though, or else he’s never going to hear the end of this.

Ghoul laughs, and Poison’s heart feels a little lighter. “We were jus’ driving t’day, Pois. It was fine. Ran into a little patrol, but ‘t was only a couple Dracs ‘n’ we took care ‘f it pretty quickly. Should be right on time t’ intercept th’ supplies we needed, might even be home early.”

Poison brightens at that. “Really?”

“Maybe. Don’ count on ‘t though, don’ wanna get your hopes up.”

“‘Course,” Poison murmurs, running his nail along the seam on the radio’s side. 

“Trust me, I’m hopin’ we get back sooner than ‘spected too. Hey, tell me ‘bout your day. You guys doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. Was tellin’ Jet — tried to start a new painting t’day, wasn’t working out. Dunno. Maybe I’ll have it done by th’ time you get back. That was while Girly was napping, then she ‘n’ I drew some pictures. She drew one ‘f you ‘n’ Jet, can’t wait for you t’ see it, it’s real cute.” He takes a deep breath. “I miss you,” he says, quietly, a little embarrassed, but less so when Ghoul echoes his sigh.

“Me too. ‘S different now, ‘sn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Poison says, even more quietly. He looks at the floor past his knees, covered in grit and grime, a screw from one or another of Kobra or Ghoul’s projects in the dust near his feet. “‘S a different kind ‘f scary now. ‘N’ a different kind ‘f lonely, I guess.” The lump is back in his throat, and his eyes are starting to sting. Fuck, he hopes Ghoul can’t hear it in his voice, he doesn’t want to give him a reason to worry. “I know you promised t’ be careful already, but I meant it, okay, y’ gotta come back safe, both ‘f you.”

“I know.” Ghoul’s voice is soft, and if Poison closes his eyes, he can picture his expression exactly, the light from the bonfire he’s surely in front of flickering over his features, making tiny flames in his eyes. “We’re bein’ careful. ‘S a pretty routine run. But we’re bein’ careful.”

“‘Kay.” Poison blows out another lungful of air. “I know. I trust you. Jus’ wanted to talk t’ you, remind you, y’know.”

Ghoul’s tone is impossibly warm when he replies. “‘Course, Cherry Bomb.”

Poison’s mouth tilts into another smile at that, and he leans his head back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. “‘S late, baby, I should let y’ get some rest ‘fore t’morrow. I love you. A lot. I’ll call in the morning, when y’ guys are on th’ road.”

“Alright. I love you too, sweet dreams. G’night.”

“‘Night,” Poison says softly, and flicks the radio off. As soon as the electronic background buzz is no longer filling the room, the restless, nervous feeling starts humming behind his sternum again, and he curses under his breath, bumping his head back against the wall where he’d been resting it. 

It was going to be a long couple of days.

*

Poison’s slumped in the Diner’s booth, head pillowed on his arms, when a rumble in the distance makes him sit bolt upright. He listens for a second, and when the sound continues, getting louder, becoming more clearly what he thought it was, he scrambles to his feet, heading for the door. 

Out in the open air, he squints against the firey oranges and pinks of the sun starting to set against the desert skyline, and if he concentrates, he can see a dust cloud moving closer in the distance. Barely containing a whoop of excitement, he runs back inside to get the Girl and tell Kobra. 

Though he’s pretending otherwise, Poison can tell Kobra’s pretty enthused too, all three of them gathered outside when the Trans Am, bearing a fresh coat of dirt and mud from the surprise rainstorm the previous afternoon, pulls up in front of the Diner. 

Jet exits first, opening the driver’s side door and waving at all of them. Poison waves back, Kobra smiles, and the Girl squeals and runs forwards to wrap her arms around Jet’s knees. Then, the passenger door opens and Poison’s feet are moving before his brain’s quite registered that that’s what’s happening. 

Ghoul staggers backwards when Poison crashes into him, arms looping around Poison’s waist, laughter getting cut off by Poison’s mouth. Poison holds on to Ghoul’s face for dear life, Ghoul swaying the two of them back-and-forth slightly, neither of them surfacing for air until Poison’s lungs are burning and he absolutely has to pull away. As soon as he’s gasped in a breath, though, he’s swooping back in, Ghoul meeting him halfway, open-mouthed, fingers lacing behind Poison’s neck to press them as close together as possible. Poison’s thumb brushes over Ghoul’s cheek, running over a fresh scratch right under his eye, and he’s warm, warm, warm, warm and solid under Poison’s hands and mouth and against his chest where they’re wound together. Poison leans back only slightly, just so he can mutter, “missed you,” before he’s yanking Ghoul in again. 

Behind them, he can hear Jet laughing, can picture Kobra rolling his eyes. “Was Ghoul as bad for you as Poison was for us?” He can hear Kobra muttering. Jet’s voice is still tinged with amusement when he answers. 

“He was alright. Quite a bit ‘f pining though.”

“Same here,” Kobra says back, probably exchanging some kind of knowing glance with Jet over his shoulder. 

Poison doesn’t care, mouthing along Ghoul’s neck now, Ghoul giggling into his chest, arms draped over his shoulders. “You don’t get to leave me again,” he mumbles against the dip of Ghoul’s collarbone. “Okay? ‘M crew leader and I say you’re gonna stay with me ‘n’ I don’ care ‘bout any future runs. This fuckin’ sucked.”

“Might have t’ take that up with the committee,” Ghoul says teasingly, head tilting back to give Poison better access. 

“ _Alright,_ that’s enough,” Jet says loudly, and Poison pulls away, though he doesn’t go very far, hooking his arm around Ghoul’s waist. He turns to see Jet covering the Girl’s eyes with his hands, looking somewhere between amused and put out. “Come  _on_ _,_ guys, house rules.”

“Fine,” Poison mumbles, settling just for having Ghoul pressed up against his side where there’s been an empty space for the past three days.

“Thank you,” Jet says, and Kobra rolls his eyes, something half-fond and half-what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-my-brother. “We brought a lot ‘f stuff home, we should get it unloaded.”

“Okay,” Poison says, but he doesn’t let go of Ghoul and Ghoul makes no move to separate them either, just hums and leans against his shoulder. 

Jet coughs in a way that sounds suspiciously like it’s covering up a laugh, but waves a hand to motion them over to the car. “Fine, do it t’gether. Just help,  _please_ .”

“Okay,” Poison says, more cheerfully, and loops his arm through Ghoul’s, gently tugging him over to the car, accepting the bags of supplies Jet hands them. 

“Witch help us,” Jet says, but when he shakes his head his mouth is tilting up, and he just hands the next bag to Kobra. 

“Get used to it,” Poison says brightly over his shoulder as he and Ghoul carry their respective loads to the door, side to side. He turns to look at Ghoul, dropping his volume so only Ghoul can hear it. “‘Cause I’m not planning on letting you go anytime soon,” he says softly. Ghoul smiles, rests against his side just a little more for a second. 

“Good. Me neither.”


End file.
